Flashpoint
by Lillypad7
Summary: A series of brutal murders in Kennewick coincide with the arrival of several teenagers with a strange scent and equally strange abilities. Mercy and the pack mobilize to put a stop to the murders, at the same time trying to figure out if the newcomers are allies or enemies.
1. Chapter 1

Mercy crossover w/ Roswell **MAJOR Roswell AU** \- I cherry picked what I liked from the books and the original TV show and made up a bunch of stuff to suit the story I wanted to tell. (nothing from the new show; I consider that a completely different universe) Roswell characters are basically who they were in the series (a mix, if they were part of both) but make no assumptions about backstory.

This story takes place after the events of Storm Cursed.

The smell of roasting hotdogs, hamburgers and pickles peppered the late summer air, mingling with the fresh perfume of the Columbia River.

I sat at a picnic table, eating my burger and watching kids in bathing suits, shorts, or nothing at all, running up and down the sandy river bank, under the watchful eyes of their parents. Adam sat across from me, chatting with one of his Hauptman security employees, though I didn't think it was about work stuff.

A few other pack members were attending the Labor Day picnic. Mary Jo stood by the corn hole boards, along with a handful of other firefighters. Her arm was wrapped around Renny's waste, which made me smile. I knew Kelly was around somewhere, with his wife and kids. Warren, Kyle and Zach were also around.

Everyone was happy, having a good time.

It says a lot about the state of my life when everything going well makes me uneasy. The memory of burning flesh and the stink of zombies and black magic still crept up on me now and then. I brushed off the feeling, and finished my hamburger. "I'm going down to the water."

Adam caught my hand, and gave me a questioning look, at the same time, reaching through our mate bond.

"I'm good." I gave his hand a squeeze. "Just need some clean air."

"I'll join you in a minute." He turned back to his conversation and I walked down to the river.

I found Kelly, one of the pack members, and his wife Hannah. Their two oldest, Makaya and Brayden, stood shin deep in the murky water, splashing each other and giggling. As I approached, Brayden caught Makaya full in the face, then took off into deeper water.

Hannah held her youngest on her hip, while the other boy played in the sand.

"Dare me to jump in, Mercy?" Kelly and Hannah laughed at the look I shot him.

"I'd rather not have to drag your drowning self out of the river." We chatted for a bit, then Hannah's eyes snapped to the water. "Brayden! That's too far!"

My gaze locked on the little boy, sandy hair plastered to his head, struggling to tread water. And pushing himself further out, where the current grew stronger.

Half a second after I spotted him, he disappeared.

Everything happened so fast, yet it was imprinted in my memory with agonizing slowness, each detail clenching my heart. Hannah screamed, still clutching her daughter. At the corner of my left eye Kelly lunged forward. I threw out on arm to stop him, because werewolves don't swim, they sink. Several other people started for the water.

A dark shape darted passed me, and dove into the river. The speed immediately made me think it was one of the pack.

Adam appeared on my right, eyes scanning the rippling surface.

"Was that one of ours?" I started forward, not that I had any better chance of saving either the boy or his attempted rescuer. They'd have been swept away by now.

"It was a boy, a teenager, I think." Adam grunted. "Moved so darn fast I barely caught a look at him."

Seconds had passed, every single one a precious drop of oxygen for the two people lost under the water. Several firefighters reached the shoreline, prepared to dive in.

"Stop!" A blond girl came running, waving her arms. "Wait, please. Michael is a really good swimmer." She stopped a few feet from me, and several details made themselves rapidly clear.

She was several years younger than Jesse, her hair hanging in soft curls down to her shoulders. Despite her assurance about her friend, she radiated anxiety, along with a scent I had never come across before. Ozone, overlaid by the blandness of unscented soap.

Adam moved to stand between us, which meant he'd caught the scent too.

Everyone stared at the girl, and her cheeks reddened. "Please, he'll bring the kid back." Though her voice trembled, her grey eyes held confidence.

Kelly held Hannah, their three other kids huddled around them. His jaw held so much tension I thought it might snap. Hannah sobbed, and tried again to wrench free of his arms.

Two of the firefighters started to wade out.

"Wait," the girl called.

The taller of the two gave her a pitying look. "Honey, your friend is drowning."

"No, he isn't." She swallowed, eyes growing bright.

Something hummed in the air. It prickled over my skin, raising the hair on my arms. Adam tensed beside me.

The firemen stood frozen, arms limp at their sides.

I wanted to step around Adam, to reach for the girl, but I couldn't. My muscles just wouldn't work. I still felt every agonizing minute that passed. Four agonizing minutes, as I learned later. I would have guessed four years.

"There they are!"

People shouted, pointing down river. A quarter mile away, two heads bobbed in the water. Whatever spell the girl had cast broke, and the firemen, along with pretty much everyone, went running down the bank. The girl flew past me. I exchanged a significant look with Adam, and we joined the crowd.

By the time we reached the spot, a black haired, stocky teenage boy was dragging Braydon out of the water. The little boy spluttered and coughed, water streaming from his nose and mouth. The teenager, Michael the girl called him, collapsed onto the sand, cradling Braydon in his arms. The little boy fought him, crying in his blind panic.

Hannah appeared, scooping her son into her arms.

The boy's rescuer drew one knee up to rest his forehead, breathing deeply. Though not nearly as deeply as I would have expected for someone who just spent several minutes without oxygen. The girl, on the other hand, was flushed and trembling. She crouched at his side, and whispered in his ear. "We have to go."

I knelt beside them, Adam standing just behind me, allowing me to take point. The girl jumped at my presence, and watched me with wary eyes as I placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

He lifted his head, and dark brown eyes met mine.

"You were under water for a long time. A paramedic should check you out."

I expected either him or the girl to protest, but he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Is the kid okay?"

Adam glanced over his shoulder. "He's with the paramedics now. Come on, let's get you over there." He reached a hand down to help the boy to his feet.

Michael stood about six inches shorter than Adam, and looked maybe a few years older than his companion, who stood a few inches shorter than him. She didn't look pleased with his agreement, and stuck close to his side on the walk to the medic station.

"Isabel, it's fine," he whispered. "You're going to make them suspicious."

Braydon clung to his mother while a medic checked his lungs. Kelly hovered over them, his other three kids ranged around him. His attention darted to Michael when we reached the tent, then back to his son.

A paramedic draped a towel around Michael's shoulders and pushed him into a chair. Another medic, a middle aged woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, set a chair in front of him. "That was a foolhardy thing to do, young man."

He said nothing as she checked his lungs, frowning heavily. Her gaze found me and Adam. "Mr. Hauptman, how long were they under?"

"Four minutes." Adam answered. "And around 17 seconds, according to my watch." Adam wore the sort of high-tech super watch that could probably handle a missile launch. "I happened to check it," he whispered low enough only I would hear. "Right before she cast whatever spell that was."

The second the paramedic said my name, the girl, Isabel's, eyes widened, and her hand on Michael's shoulder tensed. Her eyes darted from me to Adam as the color drained from her face.

They knew the name Hauptman, which was no surprise as Adam was something of a minor celebrity. The question was, what frightened them? Werewolves were scary, but I had a feeling there was more to it.

Michael shared his friend's unique scent. With the excitement over, I picked up a bit more. There was a human-like component to it, though still quite different from anything I'd ever smelled. Both their scents were overlaid with maybe three or four others similar to them. And Michael apparently had a lover, a woman.

The paramedic shook her head. "No water in your lungs, breathing normal, heart rate normal." She narrowed her eyes at Michael. "You on a swim team?"

"No team, I just swim a lot. Since I was a kid."

She grunted, slinging the stethoscope around her neck. "You're lucky." With a glance behind her at Braydon, she grinned. "Nice job."

Michael looked down, shoulders hunching. "Thanks."

"Can we go?" Isabel was looking at the paramedic. She had been studiously avoiding my gaze and Adam's.

The paramedic turned to Adam and me. People tended to treat us as authorities, no matter the situation. I wouldn't pass up a chance to learn more about these two. "Do you have a way to get home? We can drive you."

"No, we're fine. Thanks." Michael rose to his feet, throwing an arm around Isabel's shoulders. He steered her past us, out from under the tent.

Hannah looked up as they passed, and caught Michael's arm. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

He gaped at her, his shock and embarrassment making him seem much younger. "It's fine." He carefully pulled his arm free, and they left her staring after them. She hugged her son to her chest, tears trailing down her cheeks. Kelly knelt beside the chair and wrapped his arms around them.

I wanted to go after the two, but I had no concrete evidence of anything. And I had a strong feeling they wouldn't be very cooperative. I shared a look with Adam, and he nodded. "Me too. We'll look into it."

Since I had claimed the Tri-cities as our territory, and under our protection, anything preternatural fell to us. These kids were definitely not ordinary humans, and they knew it.

Adam wrapped his arms around me, chin resting on my shoulder. "Stop worrying. Whatever they are, they don't seem threatening." He sighed, and I wondered if he was thinking what I was. Maybe this one we could let go. A couple of kids who seemed to want to be left alone, but had saved a boy from drowning at the risk of drawing attention. Not really raising red flags, compared to what we'd dealt with before. Still, what that girl had done, that took serious power.

The chaos had broken up the picnic a bit, but people were trying to pull things back together. Kelly and Hannah took their kids to the car to settle them down, but insisted they would be back.

"I'm going to ask around, and see if anyone else talked to those kids."

Adam nodded. "I'll check with the other pack members."

Along the river's edge I found a group of teenagers our two mysterious strangers had talked to for a bit.

Apparently they'd been out walking along the river, and stumbled on the picnic. They shared a few sodas and talked for a while, but not about anything terribly significant. They'd just moved to Kennewick a few weeks ago, and the discussion had mostly run to movies and music.

When Hannah yelled, Michael had leapt to his feet and taken off running.

"Did they say anything else?"

One girl shrugged. "The girl, Isabel? She mentioned an older brother and his wife. I think they live with him." Her face brightened. "Oh, and he said he'd gotten a job flipping burgers. He didn't say where."

I thanked the kids, and went to find Adam. He stood with Warren, Kyle and Mary Jo, near the picnic tables where we'd eaten lunch. I gave them a run-down on what little I'd learned. They hadn't fared any better.

"No one else spoke to them, and they bolted straight out of here." Warren tipped back his cowboy hat to scratch his forehead. "But it sounds like they've settled here. We ought to be able to find 'em."

Adam gave a brisk nod. "We'll call this low priority for now, but I want to know what's going on with these two."

I knew what he was thinking. After everything we'd dealt with in the past almost four years, letting any oddity slide didn't sit well.

"Mr. Adam! Mercy!" Makaya, Kelly's older daughter, ran toward us, little arms and legs pumping. "Come to the car. Daddy wants you to see something."

My heart leapt into my throat, although if it was life threatening, Kelly would have sent her to fetch the paramedics. Adam and I followed the little girl to the make-shift parking lot, a field of summer-dry grass, parking spaces marked with little red stakes.

Kelly and Hannah's SUV was parked in the third row, the trunk open. Brayden sat on the edge, legs swinging, looking surprisingly unconcerned. Maybe because Hannah and Kelly were going to great effort to not reveal their inner turmoil. The werewolf and Hannah smelled of fresh fear and panic, though they smiled when we came up.

Kelly ruffled Brayden's hair. "Bray, show Adam and Mercy your new tattoo."

With an excited grin, Brayden lifted his tank top.

A silvery handprint glowed in the center of his chest.

"Holy cow," I muttered, sharing a look with Adam.

"Yeah," he said, in response to the question evident in my eyes, as well as Kelly and Hannah's. "Finding these kids just became priority one."

_Credit to Patricia Briggs for the Mercy Thompson series, Jason Katims for the original Roswell tv series and the Roswell High book series by Melinda Metz_


	2. Chapter 2

Kelly and Hannah packed their kids up and headed home. After describing the handprint to the other pack members present, Adam and I also headed out. Sitting in the passenger's seat of his truck, I mulled over what little we knew.

"Our best lead is the boy's job," I said, tapping my knee. "There's a finite number of burger places in the Tri-cities. And we can save the chain restaurants for later. I bet he would have said if he'd gotten a job at McDonald's." I frowned, remember the genuine fear of both kids. "They looked about high school age."

"The girl certainly did."

Looked being the operative word. We both knew a lot of people, Adam included, who looked far younger than they were. But these two had also acted very young. "Everything about them screamed scared kids." I watched Adam to see if he followed my line of thinking.

"Which means either that's exactly what they are, or it was a very good act."

I couldn't help laughing. "We've gotten paranoid, you know."

He returned my grin. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you."

I sighed. "Every one of my senses was telling me these were two scared kids. I guess it's possible it was all an act, but …"

"You'll drive yourself crazy going down that road." Adam guided the truck onto the interstate, heading to our house. "Scared kids or not, those two were powerful. Whatever spell that girl did, it worked on a lot of people. We need to get a handle on this."

"Which is worse; that they're evil masterminds who did all this to gauge our response, or a couple of terrified kids who might go nuclear if someone says boo at them."

A moment of silence passed.

"I'll take nuclear kids any day," Adam said.

"Yeah." We'd definitely had our fill of evil masterminds.

Other than speculate, there wasn't much we'd be able to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours, beyond alerting the rest of the pack. Kelly, Warren and Mary Jo would be on the lookout. Adam called Darryl and described the kids and their scent. Darryl would send out the message to the rest of the pack to be on the alert. We agreed that tomorrow we'd start checking local restaurants, but keep it subtle.

Upon arriving home, we found the house empty. Jesse had gone to the movies with her friends, Joel and Lucia were spending the day out, and Zee had taken Aidan for his biweekly visit to Underhill. It took a minute of wondering where everyone else had gone for me to remember that those were actually the only people who lived in our house.

I gave Adam a sly grin. "Hey, nudge?" I bolted up the stairs, delighted to hear him racing up behind me.

I took a breath of fresh air to clear the stink of grease and stale fries from my nose. "If I see one more burger in my lifetime, it will be too soon."

Warren chuckled, settling his cowboy hat back on his head. "Can't say I disagree. Grilled meat used to smell different. Fewer preservatives back then."

"The good old days." Days I had never experienced, given that Warren was a couple hundred years older than me. As we climbed into the car, I glared at the building we'd just left. We had one more stop on our list and it was a long shot. A vegetarian Americana restaurant didn't really fit with burger joint, but they did have meatless burgers on their menu.

"Cheer up, Mercy." Warren rested his hat on his knee, because it didn't fit in my new-to-me Jetta. "We've still got all of Pasco and Kennewick to search."

I shot him a look as I backed the car out of the space, and pulled on to the road.

Warren remained easy going. "We'll find 'em. Like Adam said, this ain't high priority."

"Until it is." Very often low priority tended to become high priority, and I wasn't as relaxed about it as I'd been a couple of weeks earlier. I'd been thinking more and more about what the girl had done. How powerful she would have to be to prevent that many people from moving for several minutes? What else could someone like that do?

Our last stop at least gave some relief from the overpowering smell of charred beef and greasy fries. Walking through the door, I smelled coconut oil and grilled vegetables.

A host in a bright green shirt greeted us with a smile. "Good afternoon. Table for two."

He seated us at a booth in the main room. I scanned the area, noting the kitchen and planning how I could wander back there and see if I could catch a scent.

The waitress arrived to take our drink orders. "Have you been here before?" At our shaking heads she grinned. "Well welcome. How'd you hear about us?"

Inspiration struck. "A friend of ours, who works here, recommended it. Michael."

Her eyebrows shot up, and her grin widened to genuine pleasure. "Our new line cook. He's so quiet, but he seems real sweet. I'll let him know you stopped in when he starts his shift."

As she walked away, I gave Warren a satisfied nod. "It's always the last place you look."

He nodded, studying the menu with high skepticism. "Please tell me this means we can leave and I don't have to choke down a helping of beet and avocado ceviche."

"You don't have to order, but we'll have to get the pack watching this place. As soon as this kid figures out we're on to him, I have a feeling they'll be in the wind." My phone rang, and Tony's name flashed on the screen. I answered with an internal sigh. "I hope this is a social call."

"I wish it could be." Though his tone was mild, I sensed the strain in Tony's voice. "I have a crime scene I'd like you and your wolves to take a look at."

"Right now?"

"If that's possible."

"On our way." We said our goodbyes and hung up. "You up for one last stop today."

"Yes ma'am." Warren set aside the menu, and we stood in time to meet the waitress, who gave us a distraught look.

"We got an emergency call," I said apologetically. "So we'll need to rain check."

Her frown deepened, then understanding dawned. "I thought you looked familiar. You're Mercy Hauptman."

Before she could voice the first of likely a hundred questions, Warren gave her his most charming smile. "Indeed she is. You tell our friend Michael we'll catch up with him another time."

Awestruck, she simply nodded as Warren and I walked out.

"You know he'll probably run as soon as she tells him that?"

"Of course. And then whoever is here watching can tail him straight home, while he's too panicked to notice."

I smiled. Warren liked to play dumb cowboy, but he was sharp. "See if Kelly or Mary Jo can make it. They'll recognize him."

While Warren played phone tag with various pack members, I drove us to the address Tony had texted me. We ended up in a spot in Kennewick, just across the river from Pasco. Tony waited for us on Canal Drive along with two other officers. Both looked pretty green around the gills, and as soon as I opened the door, I knew why.

Death, along with all the unfortunate realities that accompany it, hit me like a wall.

"Sorry to drag you out here, but you'll understand why." Tony tilted his head towards a nearby alley, which had been roped off with police tape. Warren and I followed him.

It had been a woman, though identifying her would not be easy. Body parts and gore were scattered from one side of the alley to the other. Her shredded clothes lay in a bloody heap in the center of the mess.

"Third body in three days. Different alleyways, but all around this area. We've been keeping this out of the news, but I have to tell them something. You know what this looks like."

A human torn to shreds, and, from the look of it, partially eaten. The public would think either werewolf or fae, and neither of those groups needed bad press right now.

"I'm hoping you can help us resolve this quickly," Tony went on. "Any insight into who or what could have done this, and whether or not your pack can help us out would be appreciated."

I fingered the police tape. "Can we cross over."

Tony gave a brisk nod. Warren and I stepped over the barrier and approached the body. I inhaled, sifting through the overwhelming scents of blood, gore and organs. And found another, familiar, scent. Warren caught it at the same time I did, and gave me a sharp look. That odd mix of bland soap and ozone, but different from the two kids at the river. This one had no hint of human scent to it. A metallic tang mingled with a scent that reminded me of snakes.

I stepped back over the tape. "I think we can get a lead on this." I didn't want to give Tony too much hope, but I doubted those kids sharing a scent with our mystery monster was a coincidence. "How long can you keep this under wraps."

"I have to give a statement today." He grimaced. "But I can be stingy with the details. Let me know what you find out."

I glanced back at the remains, which Warren still studied, arms crossed. "Be careful."

Tony laughed without humor. "I do my best. You do the same."

Back in the car, Warren very deliberately fastened his seatbelt. "Waitress or a bartender, coming home late from a shift." He shrugged. "Or maybe walking the streets. Someone alone and helpless."

I nodded. "Odd choice for two kids who saved a child from drowning."

Warren shook his head. "They don't seem right for having done this. But I'll bet every damn cent I have to my name that they have answers."

I agreed with that, but we weren't going to find those answers until we found those kids. As I headed back to Adam's, where Warren's truck waited, he texted Mary Jo. She was in place, but the boy had not shown up yet. She promised to text us the second he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Panic was not a new emotion for Michael. He was not calm and collected, like Max. Nor was he as logical minded as Liz. But he had grown accustomed to panic, and could think past it. So when his co-worker, Angie, told him some werewolf friends of his had stopped by, and promised they would be back, he hadn't bolted for the door.

If the werewolves knew where he worked, they would be waiting, ready to follow him home when he left. Clearing off a booth by the front window, he took a few seconds to scan the parking lot. All empty cars, but they would be smart enough not to sit waiting for him in plain view.

He'd driven up on a motorcycle and walked in through the front door. If they had left someone to spy on him, they had definitely seen him and would not miss him leaving. Not unless he called Kyle or Maria to pick him up around the back, and that would require an explanation he did not want to give.

Max had been adamant that they lay low. No drawing attention. No using their powers in front of humans. Michael had sworn Isabel to secrecy, knowing Max and the others would flip if they found out.

Plates rattled in the plastic bucket, and Michael took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Laying low never seemed to work. Something always happened, and they had to pull up stakes and run. He was getting damn tired of running, if only because he knew the others, his family, were tired of it. Maria was tired of it.

At a booth toward the back of the restaurant, he scanned outside, and spotted a dark blue car, parked in the adjacent lot. A woman sat inside, reading a magazine. Every now and then she glanced toward the restaurant, almost meeting Michael's eyes once.

Okay, so maybe he spotted the tail. Assuming it was her, she was in a car, which gave him some leeway. Either way, she was in for a long wait, because he definitely wasn't leaving until his shift ended.

He pushed her out of his mind, and focused on his work. The last thing he needed was to get fired.

The hours crawled by. Michael was wiping down a table near the bar, when a hushed silence fell over the diners. He looked over to find most of the staff and customers staring at the TV hanging over the bar. An anchorwoman with a somber expression spoke over a scrolling headline that read "Mutilated bodies work of serial killer?"

"The murders all took place between 10pm and 2 am. Several leads are being pursued. Police are warning Kennewick residents to avoid walking at night alone, and not to be outdoors after 9pm, if possible."

Conversation slowly picked back up, low whispers that gradually built to the typical cacophony. It swirled around Michael, who stood frozen in the center, a ringing in his ears building to a high pitched whine. Mutilated bodies. Killed at night.

Skins hunted at night. Up until now, they hadn't hurt any humans. They weren't exactly brilliant, but they knew the humans outnumbered them. And they weren't huge fans of eating anything that also ate meat. Hence why they had a taste for Antarians.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his trance. He ducked into the back, toward the hall that led to the storage room. He glanced at the caller ID before answering. "Maria, did you see the news?"

"Holy God, Michael, yes. Is it them? What are we going to do? They're killing people."

He swallowed. If the Skins had graduated to eating humans, all bets were off. "I'm coming home. My shift's almost over anyway. Is everyone else home?"

"Max's on his way. Everyone else is here."

"I'll see you soon. Love you." It still seemed strange to say the words, not because he didn't mean them. Because they weren't enough to describe how he felt about her.

"I love you too."

Putting away his phone, Michael shouldered his way through the kitchen, to where the manager was overseeing the line. "Hey Jason, I got a family emergency. My shift is over in ten minutes, can I take off?"

Jason gave a brisk nod, his attention on the kitchen staff.

Michael walked out the front door, where his bike waited. A quick scan showed the dark blue car gone, but there were plenty of other cars. Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck as he strapped on his helmet. He started up the bike and pulled onto the road, joining the moderate flow of evening traffic.

The sun hung at the edge of the horizon, streaking the sky with pink, purple and gold. Michael would have appreciated the sunset, but too much of his attention was on his rearview mirror. In the dimming light, he couldn't differentiate any of the cars behind him.

Time to go for broke. He stepped on the gas, weaving through cars in the sort of reckless manner that would have had Max rolling his eyes, and Maria hyperventilating.

Drivers honked, and yelled, but their shouting faded in the roar of Michael's bike and the distance he cleared. At the first sign of a suitable alley, he turned into it, narrowly avoiding a parked car, and coming out on a different road. He did that a few more times, leading whoever might be following him on a wild chase well away from his home.

Down his final alley, he checked the time. Nearly 10pm. He pressed a hand to the body of his bike and changed its color from black, to pale green. The air shimmered as he drew a bubble around the bike, effectively silencing it for a few minutes. Long enough to get him back on the road unnoticed, and pointed toward home.

When he reached the single lane that wound toward the farmhouse, he stopped and waited.

Nothing. Few cars drove down his far. Their nearest neighbor was a good half-mile away. If anyone had managed to follow him, they'd stopped a ways back.

Silencing his bike again, just in case, he rode to the house.

Maria greeted him at the door, arms crossed. Her normally placid teal aura had turned a sickly green. "Where have you been? You're shift ended at 9. And why are you running silent?"

"Took the scenic route." He forced a smile as he climbed the steps, and wrapped an arm around her waist. She clung to him, trembling, her face buried against his chest. He tightened his arms around her, afraid to move beyond the doorway. Afraid to step past the moment they shared, when everything would shatter around them.

"Michael, Maria. Come inside." Max's voice broke the moment. With a soft curse, Michael pulled away. They stepped into the front hall, closing the door.

The farmhouse had been little more than a shack when they'd purchased it and the surrounding acre of land. A week or so of work had turned it into a comfortable, two-story house. Mismatched furniture, two sofas and a loveseat salvaged from junkyards, occupied the living room, along with a decent sized, formerly broken, TV. Bedroom furniture, kitchen appliances, everything salvaged, untraceable. This was supposed to have been their haven. The place they would stay.

Max stood behind the sofa, arms crossed, expression grim. Kyle, Tess and Isabel sat on the sofa, the girls huddled on either side of Kyle. Liz sat on the loveseat, rubbing her temples. Their auras writhed, the colors dull. The television was tuned to the 10 o'clock news, and a smiling woman chattered about high and low temperatures and a slight chance of rain.

"They just ran the story again." Max bent forward to brace his elbows on the sofa, dropping his head to his hands. "I thought we'd finished them."

"This time we will." Michael raked a hand through his hair, debating whether the werewolves needed to be brought up.

"We blew up a warehouse last time." Max stared into a middle distance. "Nearly killed ourselves and could have hurt a lot of people. We can't keep this up. Not without getting killed or caught."

Isabel caught Michael's eye, conveying through hers the level of her panic. Michael gave a minute shake of his head. Maria, standing beside him, made a soft sound. "Maybe it's not the Skins. It could be a fae monster or something."

"One way to find out." Michael returned their incredulous looks. "They'll be out tonight. We need to be out there to stop them."

"Stop them," Max whispered, voice hoarse. "Michael, they will slaughter us. We aren't strong enough to take them head on. We'll either end up dead or worse, caught."

"We can't just let them go around murdering people." Michael glanced at the others, but found only reluctance and unease.

"We let things happen to people all the time when we could do something about it." Max rubbed a hand over his face. "Do you have any idea how many people I've watched suffer and die, when I could have healed them?"

"That … this is different ..." Michael clenched his teeth, his muscles tensing.

Kyle snatched up the remote and clicked the TV off. "We can't take them in a head on fight, Michael. Or did you forget what happened last time you tried."

The mood, already low, took a sharp dip. Pulse pounding, Michael resisted the urge to close the distance between him and Kyle.

The other man's pale yellow aura had taken on the color of an old bruise. Guilt darkened his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.

Max raised his head, then slowly pushed away from the sofa. "We can't." He sighed. "We'll need … we'll talk about this tomorrow. We're all tired, let's just drop this for now."

Michael drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the tight feeling in his chest. "You want to leave again."

A depressive weight settled over the room. Tess dropped her head to Kyle's shoulder, eyes glistening. "But I like it here." Her brother wrapped an arm around her, and she gave him a watery grin. "Maybe … maybe we could ask the werewolves for help. They help people, right? That was why we came here."

Her words sent a shudder up Michael's spine, even as Max shook his head. "We came because we hoped the presence of a werewolf pack would deter the Skins. I'm not sure going to the werewolves directly is a good idea."

"I can see it," Kyle said with a humorless laugh. "'Hey, how's it going. We're aliens who infiltrated your planet, and by the way, brought a bunch of predatory monsters with us. Mind helping us out.' That'll go over great."

A lump filled Michael's throat. The werewolves knew about him and Isabel, had seen them use their powers. Maybe they couldn't really prove anything, but did they need to? They would certainly be digging into the murders, and might trace them back to Michael. And we're werewolves supposed to be super involved with government, with high level military stuff. Exactly the sort of people who would study aliens.

He raked his fingers through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan. "We need to deal with this problem ourselves. I'm sick of running, and now, we'll be leaving a trail of bodies behind."

Stricken faces stared back at him, and he knew what they were thinking. Because he was thinking it too. Watching them get torn apart by Skins, or dragged away by people in hazmat suits. Eaten alive or locked up in cages, to be dissected and studied.

"You know what, you guys stay here. I'll deal with it." He turned and started for the front door.

"No, Michael." Max blocked his path, grabbing him by the shoulders. "You can't just walk off. We're supposed to be a team. Remember?"

"What I remember is that I'm the strongest member of this team when it comes to dealing with the Skins. So I'll deal with it, or I won't. Then go the werewolves." He swallowed. "At least you can show them we tried."

Max didn't move, his fingers tightening their grip on Michael's shoulders. The oldest of them, the reluctant king, though that title had gone out the window when Max had given his final message to the Antarian court ruling over Copper Summit. "I hate this. Hate allowing the Skins to claim any more lives. But I can't lose anymore of you." He released Michael and backed away. "I'm going with you."

Liz stood up at the same moment Kyle, Tess and Isabel rose. "Us to," Tess said.

Maria straightened and gave a decisive nod. "And me."

It felt like a belt had twisted around Michael's heart, and he opened his mouth to protest.

"You go, I go." Maria snapped. "Don't you dare tell me not to."

"All, or none, Michael."

He couldn't let them do it. Not without knowing why; that the werewolves already knew about them. "No. You're right, Max. We at least need a plan." He ignored their suspicious looks. "We can talk it out tomorrow and figure out a way to lead the Skins somewhere away from humans. Who knows, maybe we can find another warehouse to blow up."

Kyle snorted. "We really got to stop blowing up buildings."

Everyone laughed, and the tension in the room trickled away. Michael went to Maria and hugged her close. He wanted to promise her that he would keep her safe, even knowing that she would get pissed and excuse him of being patriarchal. But he couldn't keep her safe. He brought the werewolves to their door, and the Skins were waiting there too. And if he tried to protect her, she would push him out of the way.

She would get herself killed, and so would the rest of them. Scared Michael could handle, as long as he could do something about. This was the helpless kind of scared. The kind that tears into your chest and claws up your throat, so you can't breathe. That wakes you up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, and makes you hug the person sleeping beside you, because you were certain for a second, they were dead.

He'd had nightmares more than once that all of them were dead. Just like Nikolas.

Michael held Maria for several minutes, breathing in her warmth, the smell of her rose shampoo. When he pulled away, she lifted her head to meet his eyes. "We'll be okay."

"Of course." He reluctantly let her go. "Let me go change and shower." He gave Maria's hand a last squeeze, then climbed the steps.

Guilt eating at him, Michael closed the door to the bedroom he and Maria shared. His keys still jangled in his pocket. He crossed to the window, left open to let in the summer breeze. He unlatched the screen, and lifted it, heart hammering.

The drop from the roof was ten feet, but a sturdy branch on an oak tree gave him a helping step down. He landed lightly, and started for his bike.

The others could stay home, safe.

He cloaked the bike, started it up and headed out.


	4. Chapter 4

Michael's footsteps echoed off the surrounding buildings, emphasizing just how empty the streets were. The few people he'd seen had ignored him in their rush to get home. The specter of the recent news report lay over the streets like a fog.

Michael wished he had some way of pinpointing where the Skins would hunt. He was fairly certain only one was hunting at a time. Otherwise, there would have been more bodies. He was confident he could handle one Skin, he just needed to find it.

He threaded his fingers behind his neck, giving in to a frustrated grunt. He'd been wandering past alleys and around closed down buildings for nearly an hour. He didn't know what time it was, having turned off his phone as soon as he parked his bike, but he guessed it was close to midnight.

His family would have realized he'd left by now. They'd come looking for him. He swallowed the knot forming in his throat as he turned a corner.

A scream shattered the silence.

He took off at a dead run toward the sound, clearing a full block and skidding into the alleyway the scream had come from.

He took in the sight in a single, heart-hammering second.

The Skin held a woman by the neck, pinned to the brick wall. It leered up at her, its razor teeth bared.

The woman's heels kicked desperately against the bricks as she gagged for air.

"Drop her!" The order burst out fueled by adrenaline and sheer terror.

The Skin slowly turned its head, lips bowing in a feral grin. Its husk was the form of a heavily muscled man, well over six feet tall. Dressed in jeans and a plain t-shirt, both torn and stained. As if it had worn them for a long time with no thought to washing or changing. "Antarian. We knew killing enough of these foul tasting rodents would bring you out."

Michael tightened his jaw to stop it shaking. "You have me. Put her down."

The hand around the woman's throat opened, dropping her several feet to land in a heap. Michael wanted to check on her, but he had to keep his attention on the Skin.

The behemoth stalked toward him, red eyes glowing through the human eyes of its husk. It tilted its head back, sniffing. "Only you. Brave. I shall enjoy devouring your flesh. And when your family emerges from their hole, we shall feast enough to sleep for a month."

Michael backed up in a semi circle, keeping some distance between him and the Skin. He needed to lure it further down the alley, away from the woman and any other potential victims. He could hear footsteps, likely alerted by her scream.

The Skin snarled and lunged. It closed the short distance between them in two strides. Michael threw his hands up, slamming them into the Skin's chest. Hot, blue light radiated through his palms and the pressure squeezed Michael's head like a fist.

The blast sent the Skin flying backwards. It twisted at the last second, hitting the wall with its head and shoulders. Brick cracked and crumbled. Booted feet slammed into the asphalt, and the Skin laughed. "A powerful one. How long can you fight, I wonder." It braced to charge.

Michael raised his hands, trying to focus through his growing headache. He had to get behind the Skin, and hit the trigger.

Two men appeared at the mouth of the alley.

The Skin's head snapped toward them.

Michael had a split second to make a decision. "Hey, you want me, remember."

When the creature turned back to him, he ran. Heavy footfalls vibrated the asphalt under his feet. Gaining on him.

Michael put on a burst of speed, aiming for the fence. If he could clear it in a leap, it would slow the Skin down. They were lousy jumpers.

The muscles in his legs tensed, braced to launch him up.

Fingers clamped onto his shoulders. The Skin swung him like a ragdoll. Michael's foot struck the wall with a smack.

Pain shot up his leg. He landed on his back, the air knocked from his lungs. A mouth full of razor edged teeth loomed over him.

The Skin disappeared. Michael struggled to push himself up. His shoulders burned, and his left ankle throbbed. A few feet away, the two human men squared off with the Skin. Michael opened his mouth to yell at them to run. But it was too late.

The taller, lankier man charged the Skin, moving with inhuman speed. His fist slammed into the creature's jaw.

The Skin's head snapped back, and it staggered.

The other man, a redhead, dove forward to ram into the Skin's midsection, driving it into the wall. Mindful of the release on its husk, the Skin twisted. It struck the wall with its hip, then grabbed the redhead, and lifted him. Surprise marked the Skin's face for the barest second, then it tossed the redhead aside.

He landed inches from Michael, and was on his feet in less than a second, growling. A terrified thrill rose in Michael's chest. Werewolves.

He grabbed the man's wrist. Silver eyes burned into him, and Michael jerked his hand back. "The bottom of the spine. You have to hit it really hard right above the tailbone."

Red's eyebrows raised, then he nodded. He launched himself back into the fight.

The tall guy had been holding his own. A solid punch to the chest opened a hairline crack in the husk, visible through the torn shirt. It resealed itself rapidly, but the Skin backed away, more cautious. Its eyes darted between the pair of werewolves, and Michael could almost see the gears shifting. Skins were cowards, who ran from any fight they didn't think they could win.

Red called out to his companion, then darted around the Skin. Tall Guy charged, blocking a swipe from the Skin's clawed hand, and ramming a fist into its stomach. The Skin doubled over.

Red closed his fisted hands together and swung them down over the Skin's bent back. A divot sank into the skin with a click..

The husk retracted.

Michael's throat caught at the sight of the Skin's true form. A glitter of iridescent green and blue scales. Blood red eyes, wild with panic, as Earth's toxic atmosphere rushed over it.

It shrieked.

Michael winced. The two werewolves grabbed their ears in obvious pain.

The Skin stumbled sideways into the wall as the pieces of the husk dropped away, disintegrating into particles. Until only the creature remained, gasping for air, its scales blistering and peeling away. It tried to crawl to the mouth of the alley, but collapsed long before it made it.

Michael pushed himself to sit with a muttered curse. A quick search showed that the woman was gone. Michael hoped she hadn't been badly injured and had made it somewhere safe.

Tall Guy and Red were studying the remains of the Skin. Michael gripped the wall to pull himself up. At least that was the plan, until the weight on his injured foot nearly made him blackout. Stifling a whimper, he sank back down the wall on trembling legs.

Tall Guy crossed the alley and crouched beside him. "I can't wait to hear your explanation." He spoke with a deep, southern drawl, pure Texas cowboy.

They had not seen him use his powers. Michael pulled the best startled look he could manage. "I was just out for a walk and … I saw that … thing attacking a woman. Is she okay?"

Cowboy gave Michael a shrewd look. "She ran into an apartment down the block. So you were just out for a walk ... at midnight."

Michael grimaced. "Insomnia."

The expression turned sour. "How badly are you injured?"

"It's just a sprain." Michael forced a tight grin, once again using the wall to get to his feet. He was better prepared for the pain, and gritted his teeth. "I can walk it off." His god-damned foot was broken. He had to get away from these two, then call Max.

Red turned away from the body, cussing a blue-streak in a British accent, about the Skin, about Michael and the entire situation. "F*cking, mother-f*cking whatever that thing was, like a god-damned snake with legs. Did you see that f*cking thing's face open up? Like a god-d*mned mech suit. And this one," he jabbed a finger at Michael. "F*cking knew about that trigger on its back. What was that f*cking thing?"

Before Michael could form an explanation, Cowboy shook his head. "Not here. We need to get him somewhere secure. Call Adam, tell him we're bringing in one of his mystery kids, and a body."

Sweat broke out over Michael's forehead and neck. "You're not taking me anywhere." He started to push away from the wall. A sharp stab drove up his leg. His vision tunneled. Heart pounding, he fell back against the wall.

The two werewolves were watching him, unimpressed. "Kid," Cowboy said. "Even if you could walk out of here on your own, we're not letting you go. You're up to your neck in this, and we're not quite sure what side you're on."

Michael flinched, swallowing. The tingle of unspent energy pooled in his hands, still pressed to the brick behind him. He had a couple blasts left in him, but he didn't know if he could knock both werewolves out, or for how long. And that would still leave him with a broken foot, in an alley, with a pair of unconscious werewolves.

The pair seemed relaxed, but Michael suspected they were ready for anything he attempted. "I need help walking."

To Michael's embarrassment, Red came forward and lifted him right off his feet, cradling him like a little kid. Cowboy picked up the remains of the Skin with a grimace, and led the way to a four-seater Toyota parked a few blocks away. Cowboy hefted the corpse into the truck bed, and secured a tarp over it. Red deposited Michael in the backseat.

The door slammed shut with the finality of a jail cell.

Michael let his head fall back on the seat behind him. He still had his cell phone. Once he was sure Cowboy and Red weren't paying attention to him, he would send a text to the others. He winced. Telling his family to run and forget about him would not go over well.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're bringing a kid and a corpse." I sat at the kitchen table with Adam and Samuel, who had come over for dinner and to discuss our latest situation.

Warren chuckled. "I know I'm early, but I wanted to get you something special for your birthday."

"Gee, thanks. Which kid is it?"

"The one who saved Braydon. Michael, right? He's injured, broken ankle if I'm any judge."

"We have Sam here. He can look at it."

Ben let loose a storm of cursing, something about a phone. A younger voice demanded it back.

"What the heck is going on?" Adam asked, though he looked more amused than worried.

Warren grunted. "Tell you when we get there. See you in a few." The call clicked off.

Samuel took a sip from his tea, grinning. "Never a dull moment around here. Starting to wish I'd stayed in Africa." He and Ariana had gotten back from their three month honeymoon about a week earlier. While Ariana was getting better at dealing with werewolves, she hadn't been up for dinner at a pack alpha's house.

Adam leaned back in his chair, and contemplated the ceiling.

I tapped his phone against the surface of the table, thinking back to the day at the river. "How do we play this? How do we handle this kid?"

"My instincts were telling me the same as yours; this was a kid trying to do a good thing. We'll approach him that way, until he gives us a reason not to." He made a face. "Sounds like he was giving Warren and Ben some trouble."

"We're very in the dark." Sam frowned. "We don't even know what this kid can do. Other than hold his breath for a long time, and put some sort of freeze spell on a crowd of people?"

"Doing that took a lot out of his friend." Adam shrugged. "Let's make sure we stay alert."

Gravel crunched, and the familiar purr of Warren's Toyota crawled up the driveway. Adam led the way out of the kitchen, and we reached the living room in time to see the door open. Warren stood aside to let Ben through. He carried Michael in a cradle hold, which the young man looked none too pleased about.

Ben glanced between Adam and me. "Where to?"

"Rec room." Adam went ahead, descending the basement steps in front of Ben. I followed, with Warren behind me and Sam bringing up the rear.

Ben deposited Michael in one of the armchairs, propping his foot on an ottoman. Michael sat rigid, smelling of fear and pain. He stiffened when Adam sat down on another ottoman a few feet away. And tried to meet Adam's eyes.

It's hard to meet a dominant werewolf's eyes, especially an alpha. After less than a second, Michael shifted his gaze away, covering the submission by scanning the rec-room. His gaze fell on Ben. "Any chance I can get my phone back."

Ben snorted. He took a phone from his pocket, and held it out to Adam. "Caught him trying to send a text. A lot of names in his contact list."

Adam took the phone, glancing at the screen. "Your name's Michael, right?" At the careful nod, he went on. "Samuel is a doctor. You want him to take a look at your ankle?"

Whatever Michael was expecting, it wasn't that. His wary gaze flicked to Samuel, then he gave a small nod.

Sam knelt beside the ottoman, setting the first aid kit on the floor. He pulled off Michael's shoe, revealing an ankle swollen to the size of a tennis ball. The kid flinched, but otherwise didn't move, watching Sam like a deer watching an approaching predator. Sam probed the swelling and muttered a few choice phrases. "How did it break?"

Before Michael could answer, Warren spoke up. "That thing we were fighting grabbed him and threw him against a brick wall." A flash of respect brightened Warren's eyes. "That was after he tried to lure it away from us."

Sam turned to Michael. "The bones are probably shattered, which means there's not much I can do. An x-ray would tell me more, but my guess is you'll need surgery."

The color had drained from Michael's face with every word, and he shook his head violently. "No hospital."

"Then I'll do what I can." Sam proceeded to pull out an ice pack, the squeeze-to-activate kind, and laid it over the ankle. "I can get you something for the pain."

Michael dropped his head back on the chair, closing his eyes. "Won't help much."

Adam looked at me, and a world of meaning passed between us, through his eyes, and our mate bond. It didn't look like we were done taking in strays. But this kid wasn't a stray, not really. I shifted my gaze to the phone in Adam's hand, and raised my eyebrows.

Adam nodded and turned back to Michael. "Whatever you are, I assume your family and friends know. Or they're like you."

Throat tightening, Michael raised his head. "It's just me," he lied.

Adam almost smiled, possibly thinking the same as me; we had a fondness for bad liars. "Don't lie to werewolves, son."

Michael cursed fluidly, though I wasn't sure if it was getting caught in a lie or from Sam adjusting the ice pack.

I walked closer to stand behind Adam and get a look at the phone. He held it up for me to read the interrupted text message.

_Found Skin. Pack up and_

I raised my eyebrows. "Pack up and … run, I'm guessing. Is it us you're afraid of, or that thing you were fighting?"

Michael gave me a mulish look. A small tremor ran through his jaw.

I slid past Adam to crouch in front of the armchair. "You tried to lead that thing away from Warren and Ben ...you wanted to protect them. You saved a kid from drowning. I think we're on the same side. As long as you and your family don't intend to harm us or our people, we have no intention of harming any of you. I think we can help each other."

He wasn't looking at me, and I couldn't tell if anything I said got through to him. I gave Adam a helpless look, but he only shrugged. Something about this kid was hitting the same triggers Aiden had. Scared but not helpless. But I had a strong feeling Michael was trying to protect his family more than anything else.

Best to be direct. "You want to protect your family. We want to protect everyone in the Tri-cities. I don't see those goals as being mutually exclusive, especially since it sounds like your family is in the Tri-cities. Right?"

A muscle twitched in his cheek.

"You're afraid we'll hurt your family only because of what you are?"

Another nerve.

I smiled. "I'll forgive you for making the wrong assumption about us. That could not be further from the truth."

He turned to look at me, and something flashed in his eyes. "You sure about that?"

Adam tensed beside me, but my smile widened. "I've fought vampires, a giant river monster and the physical embodiment of a volcano, among other things. You have to do more than that to scare me."

In a heartbeat, the heat drained out of him, leaving him somehow smaller. His face was white from pain, the veins standing out in stark relief.

"Speaking of fighting monsters," Adam said. "I think we also have a shared goal of stopping whatever that thing was Warren and Ben killed. Can you give us some insight into that?"

"They're called Skins. They're … there could be a half dozen of them left. Last time they found us, we tried to kill them, but …" He looked at Ben. "It takes a lot of strength to hit that trigger." He was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. He shifted his leg and hissed. "I can't do much to help you like this." Emotions warred across his face and he took a deep breath. "One of my friends can heal me. I can call him and tell him to come here."

Adam still held the phone, and he gave Michael a stern look. "Make sure he understands that neither of you is leaving until we have answers."

After a second's thought, Michael sighed and nodded. Emotions warred across his face, but mostly he just looked exhausted. He took the phone, and hit one of the numbers.


End file.
